Cohors Heroum
by ClusterOfClouds
Summary: Historians will argue on how the events that brought to the rise of the Order of Heroes truly transpired. For my part, I will try and ease their work by narrating my own story and integrating it with sources from Askr and Embla alike. -Prince Alfonse. FEH story with international politics, worldbuilding and character develpment added in the mix (I hope).
1. Chapter 1

An extract from "Historia Zenithis: Cohors Heroum", by Prince Alfonse of Askr,

It had been three years of peace between the nations of Askr and Embla, following the death of the previous emperor after his demise by the end of King Gustav. The two nations had been utterly devastated by the previous conflict (as seen in "Famine and Upheaval, War Economical Estimate of Year 789" by Minister Erik Roddat), but following the peace their economies had begun the slow climb to pre-war prosperity. Though in later years this would only be known by historians as a short reprieve in the larger context of the Askrian/Emblian "Conflict of Bloodlines", both nations at the time felt like this peace was meant to last, and that the final blow had been dealt to any Emblian imperialistic ambition. The death of the Emperor and following Consort regency had plunged the country into political disarray, with candidates from many noble houses contending for the favour of the new ruler; while the exorbitant imposed by King Gustav of Askr had forced the Emblian Queen Regent to implement many unpopular measures that shook the core of the militaristic Emblian society, like the complete disbanding of the Great Emblian Army. (The author will not discuss this arguments further but, were the reader interested in learning more regarding Emblian society and culture during the Three Years Truce, "Youth in the Emblian Court" by Princess Veronica the Brave describes both in great details). Unfortunately, unknown to many, new tensions were rising between the two nations, and a new generation of princes, politicians, soldiers and citizens would soon be trapped in the same war that had swallowed the lives of so many of their predecessors. The final phase of the "Conflict of the Bloodlines" was about to begin, and no one was truly prepared neither for its cost, nor for the new ways in which it would have been fought.

Chapter 1: The Invasion  
Year 20 of the rule of Gustav, March 20th;  
Fortress of Alfar, base of the Order of Guardians;

The sudden Emblian incursion had caught the Order of Guardians by surprise. Emblians had entered the citadel masked as merchants and, when night had fallen, they had started moving through the soldiers' lodges neutralizing them one by one. Had it not been for the keen eyes of a lone guard, Alfonse and Sharena would have probably been killed while still in their beds, like it had happened for many of the recruits of the Order. Luckily that did not happen, and the two royals had instead found themselves leading a dozen of soldiers away from the barracks. As they move through the streets, Alfonse finds his attention drifting toward the few bodies they come across. He cannot help but linger on each face, even for just a second, praying not to recognize them. In his heart, he fears that he might crumble were he to find one of his friends amongst them. As they pass another corpse, Sharena breaks his revere: "Commander Anna said to rendezvous with her at the Temple. We are not that far, let's pick up the pace."  
Alfonse nods in return, resuming his run with renewed vigour, but he barely has time to turn right into another street when an Emblian soldier almost bumps into him. Instinctively, almost mechanically, Fòlkvangr slashes the opponent's blade away leaving him wide open and Sharena's Fensalir follows suit piercing the man's troat. As the surprise subsides and an awkward calm swiftly follows, the royal siblings both feel a shiver in their spines after realizing that they have just killed a man on instinct alone. Around them, fearing an ambush, their escort has already formed a wall, but no other Emblians appear.  
"They must have been a deserter... or simply running away."  
Sharena voice is now shaking a bit. It is not her first kill, by a wide margin, but Alphonse realizes that she must have never cut down someone that was not actively trying to hurt her before. In that moment he realizes exactly what he should do. He should confort her, he should tell her it's not her fault, he should probably hug her as well but...  
"We must press onward", it's all he manages to say. Four somber, pathetic words. He silently curses himself.  
They have no further encounters on the way to the temple and proceed in absolute silence. The group enters the plaza leading to their destination, and finds the rests of a chaotic battlefield. Bodies, Askrian and Emblian alike, lie on the floor, while a few wounded are being administered first aid by their fellow soldiers. In front of the temple's gates stands Commander Anna, leaning on her axe in exhaustion an keeping a hand pressed on her left shoulder .As the siblings draw near the woman waves at them with a small, pained, smile.  
"Thank the dragon you are both safe. I feared to have lost you too."  
She moves like to hug them, but a healer stops her and forces her to have her wound looked at. As they bandage it, Anna turns again to the royal siblings  
"From what a couple of prisoners told us, the Emblians are not that many, and some of them are not even proper soldiers. Their plan hoped on taking our leadership out of the fight before we could reorganize"  
"But now we are all here right? We can counterattack and drive them back"  
Sharena's opinion only causes Anna's smile to shrink further. Her tone speaks of defeat.  
"I would agree with you but…" her gaze shifts to the soldiers around them "I don't think we can expect many other soldiers to aid us, many have died and many more have simply run away and those still with us are either exhausted or injured. Also, I must imagine that the enemy forces already know of our location and are converging here as we speak… We have few options, all of them are horrible ones".  
Suddenly, Alphonse realizes where they are, and what exactly the Commander is about to ask of them.  
"…you want us to unseal Breidablìk and run. Don't you? You want to take your stand here while me and Sharena flee like cowards".  
The tone is harsh, full of the cold anger that's shaking the young prince to the bone. Anna meets his gaze, voice like steel as she answers.  
"Yes. And that's order. Everyone else, with me, there are more Emblians inbound".  
No discussions, no protests, just a few curt nods as the soldiers get in line behind the Commander. In the distance most sounds have subsided, and an ethereal calm has descended on the battlefield. Alfonse can only hear all the responses he could think of dying in his throat, as his mouth refuses to emit a single sound.

The temple, Alfonse noted, must be as old as the city itself. It was a very simple structure, all things considered, just a keep divided by two rows of columns on each flank with walls of the same white stone that the quarries near the city extracted, only adorned by a few golden braziers suspended on the ceiling.  
Not that it needs any decoration, he reflects, as it is more of a vault than a place for prayers. And on a small altar on the opposite side of the door stood Breidablìk, the treasure they seek. "Let's hurry, they are all counting on us" Sharena says, leading him by the hand as she crosses the length of the hall with long strides. The prince follows instantly, and the two siblings reach the altar, curtly bowing before it as they had been thought. The sacred weapon glitters in the penumbra of the hall, its shine untouched by the ages. Unwieldy, unconventional, Breidablìk took after no other weapon known to the Askrian people. Many in the past theorized on how it would have been used in a fight, but none had been able to develop a proper fighting style for it. Still, the boy can feel its power boiling, resonating with his sacred blood and filling his nose like exotic incense, the magic of the weapon pulsating through the air and numbing his senses.  
"It's as if it can sense us… do you feel it brother? It's as if… As if it is watching us. Daring us, to take it"  
Sharena's comment lights up something inside of her brother, and his expression morphs into a scowl. Silently, angrily, he reaches with his hand and takes hold of the weapon, yanking it away from the altar and undoing the sacred seal that only his family could break. A blinding light follows, as a force pushes the prince away from the weapon sending him skidding on the hard floor. Sharena covers eyes just in time and can just see the altar starting to crumble as a weird portal opens before the light overwhelms her too. A sound of steps echoes in the room and, as the glow dims, Alphonse begins to see a white coated figure standing behind the altar, Breidablìk in hand. The person raises a gloved hand, in an awkward gesture of greeting.  
"Uhm… Hello? Where am I and what the hell just happened?".

* * *

Kiran had been silently pondering what Alfonse and Sharena told him in the temple. The situation was indeed dire, and he imagined that his best bet would have been following the two and help them in any way he could. Ideally, he would have then given them the slip and found a way to get back home, but the two mentioned a prophecy and if Kiran had ever learned something from his youth spent reading Greek mythos and tragedies is that you don't mess around with prophecies. Heck, he thought, if he had been chosen it must have meant that he was somehow equipped with the tools to make it out of this alive.  
"Alfose, Sharena, what are you doing?"  
As the three had gotten out of the temple, they had found soldiers fighting right on the plaza. Both sides were composed by infantry, with no archers, and the fighting had basically devolved in a frantic, unorganized melee. The fortuitous summoning of Virion ("My my, what a predicament. I am Virion, Archest or Archers, I suppose I'll lend you my skills" such a doofus, Kiran liked him) and Alfonse calculated orders allowed them to slowly isolate and overwhelm the enemy soldiers, turning the tide of the fight.  
"Saving you, that's what."  
For his part, Kiran himself felt like he had done very little. Breidablìk had revealed itself a sturdy weapon, and it turned out that pointing a magical artefact point blank in the face of a medieval soldier (shush, I don't care if this is fantasyland, it's still medieval) was enough to intimidate some of them enough to have them drop their weapons. Or at least enough to have someone else finish them off.  
"Granted, but I ordered you two to run. You should be out of the plaza by now!"  
Midway trough the battle, Kiran had the idea to pick up a shield, and so he ended up acting as bait for enemy soldiers, exposing their sides to Virion's arrows. Trying, but effective.  
"We can turn this around! With the Weapon on our side we can still win this! We can summon more warriors!"  
The rest had been uneventful, so now Kiran was simply sat down catching his breath while Anna and Alfonse shouted at each other. Standing beside him, Sharena gazed between the two, worried.  
"Breidablìk has a limited amount of charges. Even if we spent them all to summon heroes, we would not have enough soldiers to tip the balance. It's too risky."  
"So we should just run leaving you all here to die?"  
"You should do what's best for Askr!"  
The shouting match is interrupted as a third voice cuts through, calmly yet sternly.  
"I agree", Virion says, placing himself between the two with the mouth brought to a thin line. "As someone once forced to the same decision, I must urge the prince to flee. Once you reach safety, we also could retreat or surrender. Our lives would not certainly be forfeited, and the country would still have both his royals and the Weapon".  
The hero's opinion causes young prince to pause, but after a few sharp breaths he turns toward him, ready to argue once again, but he's stopped again.  
"Brother… they are right…" Sharena says, "I don't like it either but they are right… we must go".  
The tone is pained but looking up at her Kiran can see that she won't budge, determination shining in her eyes. Or maybe it's just the tears. Reading himself for another round of screams, Kiran stands up and looks around hoping to try and find some way to mediate between the two sides, when he notices it. Figures in the air, charging rapidly toward the plaza. By reflex, he points and shouts "Enemy incoming!".

Just as the figures draw near enough to be recognized, Askrian soldiers huddle together in the middle of the plaza. Kiran is brought to the centre of the square, as Anna shouts orders to the soldiers. Horses with wings (pegasi, Kiran amends mentally) and one green dragon (no, a wyvern, he notices again), with armed riders on them surround the plaza by air. They number around twenty, matching man for man the few Askrian remaining. The wyvern slowly descends and lands on one of the roofs that surround the plaza. The rider, donning a striking red armour, speaks curtly:  
"Surrender now and you will be spared, I swear it on my homeland of Macedon. Throw down you weapons."  
Anna's only answer is to bark more orders. Beside him, Kiran notices Virion knock an arrow, silently taking aim at the wyvern. The rider once again speaks:  
"Such is you answer then. By the contract binding us, I am forced to fight you. Whitewings, attack!"

* * *

 **AN: So, this is chapter one. I'll try to update it with a certain frequency, but I haven't been writing in a long while so at the beginning things might progress slowly. Also, while the first few chapters might be a bit too focused on the action, once the order of heroes is properly established there will finally be proper character development. Review if you feel like it and please tell me if I missed some mistakes, my English is a bit rusty. So, hope to see ya next time.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Whooohooo! Chapter 2, here we go!  
**

An extract from "Foreign blades under our banner. A report regarding the indiscriminate use of contracted heroes" by Duke Bjorn the Old, Chancellor of the Queen; written in the third year of the reign of Queen Margaret "The Farsighted" (by gentle concession of the Royal Library):  
To conclude my report, in summary, it is this loyal servant's humble opinion that contracting heroes, that practice which was first instituted by the time of our founder Lif the first, may he rest in peace, has by now evolved beyond the scope by which it was originally intended. While in its primordial stages was intended as a method to ask for the assistance of remarkable souls that bonded specifically to their summoners in a relationship that benefitted both the invoker and the invoked, nowadays contracts are signed with heroes of dubious quality whom are conscripted into our armies and sent to the front under commanders unknown to them, to act as a crutch for our constant skirmishes against our neighbouring rivals of Embla, Nilf and Muspell. In extreme cases, I have seen contracts forced upon lords or generals in order to force their whole retinue to fight for our causes. While this might appear, to those unfamiliar with the art of leadership, as a simple solution for increasing the size of our armies for little cost, its effects on the quality and operations of our armies are devastating, for these foreign enlisted have little love for our lands, and are simply contempt with following the contract to the letter, deserting and leaving as soon as they are able and having no restrain while pillaging our own countryside and sometimes even defecting to our opponents in the middle of battle if the contracted leader is defeated. […] Furthermore, I believe this tactic to be essentially defeatist, for Embla has proven many times that their summoners have a greater ability in contracting a large number of heroes and trying to forgo quality for quantity in order to compete against them is equivalent to a man trying to walk on four legs while racing against a lion.

Chapter 02: Counterstrike  
Year 20 of the rule of Gustav, March 20th;  
Fortress of Alfar, Temple's plaza;

The battle was slowly proving to be mainly an exercise in patience (and that was proving to be a scary sentence to say about a battle). The flyers had not charged directly against the Askrian's shield wall but had rather started circling around them prodding their defences with their long spears and using javelins to score hits here and there. Anna's answer had been to organize the soldiers into a tighter two line-formation and swapping out the frontlines for the reserves at regular intervals to allow her men some respite. Near Kiran, Virion had been busy trying to hit the Pegasus knights, but the tight formation allowed him little space to use his bow, his fellow soldiers constantly being pushed into him and making him loose his aim. After half an hour of prolonged fighting, Kiran had realized two things: one, the situation was dire, they needed a way to break the stalemate or this would have ended badly; two this somewhat reminded of the battle of Carrhae… (it was not a pleasant thought). As he remembered from that battle, an infantry force had been surrounded by a more agile cavalry one and slowly grinded into submission, unable to force the opponent to enter melee range. And try as he might, Kiran could not figure out for the life of him what to do in that situation. "Some way to bring them close…" he was mumbling, as he watched another javelin pass through the shield wall and imbed itself into a soldier's shoulder. "Were I smarter…", thinking again of what the Romans tried at that battle, he remembers that their cavalry had been sent to break the encirclement but, unsupported, it had been massacred by the enemy's superior numbers. Then he remembers something else: the roman survivors had managed to break out at dusk, using the darkness as cover. Darkness… moving his gaze upon the enemy soldiers, he looks at them and tries to recognize their light sources. He sees them: small hip lanterns that, he guesses, must be magic powered because they would otherwise light the horse on fire. They don't appear that powerful, just lighting up a small area around the wearer… An idea passes through his mind, a dumb, dumb idea… "Alfonse!" he shouts, looking for the Prince. He needed someone to second guess it.

Extract from "Cohors Heroum", by Prince Alphonse of Askr  
I freely admit that my first impression of Kiran was not the most favourable, as he appeared to be lacking the strength of a warrior and wit of a tactician. It was a bit disappointing for me, as the prophecy of the Hero Summoner, the way it was thought to me, always described him as something akin to a mighty and prodigious leader while, for all intents and purposes, in appeared to be nothing more than a source of heroic combatants. I even wondered if the sacred weapon had simply chosen a wielder at random, questioning whether even trust his judgement at all. In the following months I would rethink on that opinion and smile on how painfully naïve I had been for, while my assessment of his fighting capabilities had been correct, the chosen summoner quickly proved to be both the perfect user of Breidablìk and an invaluable asset for the Order's campaigns.

Minerva of Macedon, commander of the Whitewings, was looking down on the fight in the plaza below with a small scowl on her face. Normally she would have been fighting with her comrades, but her faithful wyvern was not as fast as the pegasi, and as such her presence might disrupt and even compromise the group coordination. Not that she feared for her soldiers, Palla was in command and therefore Minerva knew that they were under perfect leadership, but this did not prevent the wyvern rider from feeling a bit useless, standing on a rooftop peering in the shade as the battle slowly progressed; keeping herself ready in case something went wrong. It was also a boring battle, as both army accuracy was heavily impaired by the limited visibility, the only light sources being the enemy torches and the small magical lanterns that her knights had attached at the hip, and the enemy only tactics seemed to be hiding behind their shield to escape being skewered, not stepping out of line even when baited. Not that Minerva could blame them, as most forces with a similar composition would have probably surrendered once surrounded. Passing a glowed hand on the warm scales of her mount, Minerva once again tried to peer into the darkness looking for the princes that had been assigned her as targets. She had no more luck than before in recognizing them but peering in the darkness she noticed one thing: one of the enemy torches had been put out. Then another. Then another. And suddenly the enemy's army had no more light sources in its midst. For a few seconds she remained baffled, but then the cry of one of her knights made her realize what was happening:  
they had just put out the sources of light that made them visible in the night, while her knights were still clearly recognizable due to the lanterns. Two more nights lower themselves in order to strike, but they are knocked off their pegasus. The flyers' formation breaks, as some try to assist their downed comrades and get dragged into a melee while others try to retreat and regroup around Palla. Not wasting anymore time, Minerva takes off from the roof, torch in one hand and Hautclere in the other, shouting "They are targeting based on your lanterns! They are blind otherwise! We must regroup and cha…". The word dies in her mouth, as a sharp pain spikes in her lower abdomen. Hautclere dropped, she brings her hand there, only to feel the wooden shaft of an arrow. She does not even realize she's sliding off her saddle.

"She's falling. Perfect shot, Virion" Alfonse said, keeping his eyes on the enemy's commander falling body, her lantern still making it visible. Then he shouted, "They are not coordinated now. We can end them!". The prince could already see Anna and some of their men engaging against the flyers in a chaotic melee, the darkness forcing the enemy to move so close that the Askrian infantry had a chance to counterattack. He turned to Kiran then, saying "I can't believe it worked! Now we have a fighting chance… wait, where is he?". Worried, he looks around again, only to see a coat eerily similar to that of the summoner waving in the wind as the aforementioned was running across the battlefield toward the light of the downed enemy commander.  
"What in Naga's most gracious blazes is he doing?" Virion interjected, shock evident in his face and his voice "Is he trying to get himself killed? That will leave him completely exposed! What idiocy is this?"  
Alfonse was stupefied. What was Kiran thinking? Such recklessness could put the entire army at risk, were they to rush and cover him. Should they even risk themselves to cover him? For a few, terrifying seconds, Alfonse considered ordering not to support him. Anna was still busy fighting, and so would not have noticed. Kiran could have died, but… was it worthy risking the entire army just for one of them doing something stupid? His stomach contracted for a second as such thoughts disgusted him to the point of physical sickness, but his rationality was still fixated on them.  
"What are you waiting for? We must support him!" Sharena shouted, passing him and running toward the summoner, right behind her followed Virion, and another couple of soldiers. With no hesitation, the four of them placed themselves around Kiran, shielding him as he brandished Breidablìk, rapidly preparing for a summon. As if waking from a dream, Alfonse then followed them, hoping with all his heart that this was not just a terrible mistake.

Meanwhile, Hoshido, an unidentified forest.

The sound of the princess' steps is chocked by the crunching of the leaves, as she rushes through the thick underwood. She could not bear it, not any longer, her life in the capital after the victory in the war. Her family… the war had changed them. Ryoma had become harsher, stricter, the royal duties weighting upon him as his nobles plotted and conspired to push him toward another war, while also trying to take as much power as they could. Meanwhile, Hinoka and Takumi were almost always away, dealing with one thing or the other, and Corrin had simply shut herself in his room, crushed by guilt for the death of Xander and Elise, and the following loss of his beloved Azura. Sometimes he would come out, but… he was no longer the same. Melancholic, unresponsive, like… like he was not even there sometimes. Sakura was therefore left to herself, caught between learning how to do anything that did not involve a life on the battlefield and being a pawn in the nobles' games against her elder brother. It was maddening, to be constantly supervised, prodded. To have to watch every word she would say and would not say. She could not bear such a life. She had left a note for her siblings, explaining why she was going and vaguely where she was directed. She could not explain what she would do once free for she had not thought about it herself. Not that it was time to think about it at the moment, there was little time before her retainer found it and started searching for her. By then, she needed to be on the other side of the forest where the ferryman came to bring the people across the lake. But she would never make it there, for a blinding portal of light appeared before her, and a grave voice called her name, beckoning her closer. "What is this? A portal? Like for the astral planes?", she asked, unsure, taking half a step back. The voice answered "Not quite. It's a summoning portal. On the other side of the portal there are good people that need your help, and so have launched a call for help across the worlds. Will you answer them, young princess Sakura?". She halted her backtracking, still shaking a little…Endless questions clouded her mind, who are these "people"? What help could they be needing? Should she help her? Her heart wanted to help, but the rational part of her mind was wary. But in the end the princess impulse was too strong. She took a breath, nodding to herself, searching for courage, before saying "I can... I can do this. Fine, I answer the call". And then, she stepped into the portal. Her vision went white.

A young man in a white, gold trimmed coat had been waiting for her. "Please call me Sakura, I'm happy to help", introductions were resolved with just a couple of sentences. Around them, a battle raged in pitch black darkness, too chaotic for her to comprehend fully, but she can make out a small group of footmen trying to maintain a perimeter around the wounded while repelling the assault of some pegasus knights. He led her to a downed soldier, with an arrow lodged in her lower belly and a green wyvern watching over her, growling, as if daring anyone to hurt her. Still, she edged closer, the wyvern somehow recognizing that she meant no harm and taking a step back. Sakura kneeled beside the wounded soldier, removing the pieces of armour that the arrow had been lodged in between and trying not to think about how those short red hairs reminded her of Hinoka. The healing process itself is fairly simple, the arrow head was not barbed nor poisoned nor infected, and in a matter of a few second the breath of the wounded had stabilized, and after a little while it was as if she had not been wounded at all. "Thank you…" says the wyvern rider as she stands, still wobbling a bit. Beside Sakura, a blue haired boy, one of her summoner's allies, sternly interjects "I think this is the moment when you surrender to us, is it not? Your contract should have been broken". Much to Sakura surprise, the wyvern knight nods in compliance before moving to the front of the formation, torch in hand, shouting "Whitewings! Stand down, they have us beaten, the contract is broken."  
It takes a little time, but when a pink haired knight reaches down to check on her commander the whole squadron interrupts the hostilities. Sakura lets out a breath she did not know to be holding, before turning to Kiran asking, "there might be some wounded, should I go tend to them?".  
"Please, do. If you need a hand just call for me, I'll do what I can to help. Sorry, this whole thing was a bit rushed" he answered, passing a hand on the back of his head, "now, if you excuse me, I should go to our leaders to understand what our next move is. I'll find you later for proper introductions".

* * *

 **AN: Originally, I planned to write this chapter to the end of the "World of Zenith" prologue, but that would have forced me to either rush things or have it become more than 4000 words long, and while I know that some people like having longer chapters I am not confindent in my ability to keep siad length in future chapters. So you get two different chapters with one battle each, and I get to slowly try and up my word count from chapter to chapter without rushing things. Sooo, that's it I guess... love it? Hate it? Let me know! And please be merciless on my grammar. Hope to see you next chapter.  
Oh... wait, one last thing...  
OMAKE:**

The war had passed, and the kingdom was now at peace. A now adult Alfonse had been working on his book for many years, pouring hours into the difficult task of writing his version of the war trying to be as fair and accurate as one so deeply involved in such events could be. One morning, he was walking trough the garden while reading a passage from his book looking for errors.  
"I even wondered if the sacred weapon had simply chosen a wielder at random, questioning whether even trust his judgement at all. In the following months I would rethink on that opinion and smile on how painfully naïve I had been for, while my assessment of his fighting capabilities had been correct, the chosen summoner quickly proved to be both the perfect user of Breidablìk and an invaluable asset for..."  
A sudden crash and a series of shouts from the nearby library interrupted his trail of thoughts, and had him running to the source of the commotion, worry on his face. Throwing open the door, the prince peered into the library, to find...Kiran...and Sharena... mock duelling with swords atop fallen (and still falling) bookshleves, with empty bottle of booze littering the floor, while dressed as pirates and singing a song about drunken sailors. When they spotted him they froze in place, the face either red from the alchool or the embarassment.  
"Oh, Alfonse. What a surprise, we were..." says Kiran, stuttering for an answer.  
"You were? What were you doing?", cold fury transpiring trough his voice.  
"We 'ere just hav'ng sum' fun, brotaaar!" answers Sharena, leaving him wondering if the slurrs were due to the alchool (probably the alchool) or her attempt of making a pirate voice (most definetly the alchool).  
"Oh, fun? I love fun. Would you mind if I joined you two?" asks Alfonse, mouth slowly stretching in a bone chilling smile  
"Ehm, I mean... I wouldn't say no but we were just about done and preparing to out everything back in order so..." Kiran tries to talk his way out but Sharena once again intecedes  
"Sure you can brotaaaar! But 'nly now, cause later Kir'n prumished to bring me to his room for extra fun", the giggle following makes it incredibly unclear wether she understands the innuendo or not. For his mental sanity, Alfonse decides that he does not want the answer to such a question. Rather, there's something else he wants now  
"Oh, did he now", he says, the thin smile stretching from hear to hear, as the eyes stare unflinchingly into the face of his estimed ally, "Well then, I better hurry and rise to the occasion, no? By the way, dear little sister of mine, could you please lend me that sword you have?"  
"Wait, wait, maybe we could all just talk this trough... I mean, surely your work with the book cannot wait for this tomfoolery right?"the summoner asks desperatly.  
Stepping in, slowly closing the door, expression frozen except for a slight twitch in the left eye, the prince clutches his sister's sword, saying  
"You know, I think you are wrong. In fact I'll just remove that last paragraph from the book, after I am done with you here"

 **...was it necessary? No. But I had the idea and had to get it out of my head. Sorry.**


End file.
